


Shame

by elisetales



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Foot Fetish, Footjob, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain has an embarrassing secret, one he can't share with Abel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shame

Cain was there when Deimos came out of the head, blocking the doorway and grinding his jaw, glaring down at him with a furious look on his face. Deimos didn't bother to look surprised, just dropped his gaze to Cain's clenched fist and shrank away from him on instinct, sure Cain was going to hit him for something even if he couldn't think what. They hadn't had a real argument in weeks. Nothing for Cain to be upset about.

Only he was upset. He never came by Deimos' room unless he wanted to pick a fight or get a quick blowjob, and Deimos was pretty sure he wasn't after the blowjob. Even surer he wasn't imagining the angry red mark, in the shape of a small hand, blooming across Cain's right cheek either.

Deimos stood still while Cain glared at him, didn't want to say anything that might provoke him, and flicked his eyes past Cain's shoulder, scanning the empty room. Phobos' bunk was vacant now, bed unmade, the navigator's jacket and boots still lying there on the floor like he'd only just shucked them.

"I told him to piss off," Cain gritted before Deimos could ask.

"Why?"

Cain stomped forward and Deimos flinched back from him, drawing in a sharp breath. He could hear the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, adrenaline making him shaky.

"You been talking to my navigator, Deimos?" Cain demanded, voice calm and deadly now.

Deimos quickly shook his head. "N-no," he answered, honestly. "I've never spoken to him in my life, I swear."

Cain narrowed eyes at him, silently trying to gauge whether or not he was lying, and apparently satisfied, said, "Tch," and turned around, giving Deimos his space again.

Deimos let out a short breath of relief and stared at the back of Cain's head as he hurried to cover himself with his towel. Cain had seen him naked more times than he cared to count, but being naked with him while he was angry and on the hunt for blood made Deimos feel more vulnerable than he liked. He was always vulnerable when he was with Cain, but being naked just made it worse.

"Is everything alright?" Deimos asked once his towel was wrapped securely around his waist.

"Yeah," Cain grunted, clearly not wanting to discuss it. He sat down on the edge of Phobos' bed and bowed his head, scowling as he picked roughly at his thumbnail.

Deimos stood next to him and watched with a little frown, all too familiar with Cain's nervous habits. Cain would do that to his thumb until it bled; until there was barely any nail left at all. If it hurt him at all he didn't show it.

"Smoke?" Deimos offered, when the quiet started to ring.

Cain shrugged and Deimos fished a pack out from beneath his pillow, lighting one and handing it to him. He accepted it without comment and took a deep drag, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. Deimos didn't bother turning up the vents, even if Phobos sulked about it later, just fixated on the motion of Cain's lips and licked his own, familiar need tugging at him, getting more and more desperate the longer he watched Cain's pretty mouth close around the thin little smoke.

He smoked it right down to the filter and handed it back to Deimos, who disposed of it in the little cup under Phobos' bed and sat down next to Cain, laying a tentative hand on one tense shoulder. He waited for it to be shrugged off or slapped away, for Cain to tell him he was getting too brazen again. When Cain didn't move or say a word, however, Deimos bit his lip and drew himself up onto his knees, maneuvered around so that he was sitting behind Cain, and started to gently massage his shoulders.

Cain exhaled heavily and slumped forward, some of the tension easing out of him as Deimos worked his stiff muscles. He didn't stop until Cain put a hand around his wrist and firmly squeezed, muttering, "That's enough," and forcing Deimos' arm away.

Deimos frowned and sat back on his hands, pouting and gearing up for Cain to leave, maybe spit out an insult or two before he did. He didn't, though, just stood and pushed Deimos onto his back, grabbed the edge of the towel and yanked it off his hips, tossing it to the floor and leaving Deimos spread out and exposed in front of him.

Deimos parted his knees and bit back a little smile, satisfied now that he knew what Cain _really_ wanted, what he'd really come here for. So Abel had bitched him out about something. They'd had a fight. Cain had known Deimos had nothing to do with it when he got here, had just been looking for _this_ , and Deimos was more than happy to give it to him.

He leaned back on his elbows and lifted one leg, trailing his bare foot from the hollow of Cain's throat and down over his chest and stomach, stopping at the bulge in the front of his pants and rubbing it gently. He was already so hard.

Deimos watched, intrigued, as color rose beneath Cain's skin; as his eyes fluttered closed and he let out a low groan. He opened them a moment later and looked down, staring open-mouthed as Deimos rubbed his cock through his pants, big toe teasing the zipper. He was trembling now; blushing like a scared virgin on his wedding night. Still so ashamed of himself and the things he wanted, too fucking repressed--despite all his talk and bravado--to fuck Abel like he really wanted to; to do all the things to him he wished he could, but had to do with Deimos instead. Because Deimos wouldn't tell. Deimos wouldn't laugh at him or make him feel ashamed.

Deimos was willing to bet Cain still hadn't told Abel about any of the more adventurous things he liked to get up to in bed--for fear of being laughed at, or rejected. But he knew Deimos wouldn't ever dare, and that he was safe with him. Deimos felt a grim sort of pride in that, even while he knew what Cain really wanted was Abel, and that he was just the stand-in. Deimos didn't mind so much when Cain was being quiet and letting Deimos touch him, though.

Cain took Deimos' ankle and forcefully halted his ministrations, dropping down to his knees and glancing up at him with something that looked a lot like guilt. Deimos raised himself up on his elbows and let out a tiny moan, breath hitching when Cain dipped his head to press his lips to the flat of Deimos' foot, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive instep, dragging Deimos closer to him by the ankle and closing his lips around his big toe, sucking warmly.

Deimos cursed under his breath and let his head fall back a little, eyes fluttering closed as he focused on the sensation of Cain kissing and rubbing his feet, sucking each of his toes in turn. It was intimate and familiar, just perverted enough to give Deimos a wicked little thrill, and to get Cain to come in under three minutes. He hadn't known this particular little detail about Cain when he'd first met him but had quickly learned, the first time Cain had got him alone, that he wasn't just into hard fucking, but pretty boys with pretty feet, too.

Deimos' eyes flew open when he heard the sound of Cain's zipper being drawn, the shuffling and creaking as Cain got to his feet and leaned on his forearms against the railing of the top bunk. Deimos knew what he was asking for and didn't need to make sure. He drew in a sharp breath and scooted forward, took Cain's leaking cock in his hand and jerked it a couple times, giving the the tip a few wet licks before he leaned back and raised his legs, trapping Cain's cock between both his feet. He rubbed it between the soles, teasing the tip with his toe then massaging the hard shaft, watching as the foreskin slid up and down over the glistening head.

Cain released a strangled noise; Deimos smirked and wondered why Cain had to hide his face when that was always the best part for Deimos, watching him lose it like this.

"Fuck," Cain bit out, voice muffled by his forearm. "Nnng, _Deimos_..." He craned his head back to look, and a small shiver ran along Deimos' spine the moment Cain breathed his name.

He leaned back and idly stroked his own cock, the muscles in his legs straining, and bit his lip to keep quiet. Cain came a moment later, his come pulsing hot between Deimos' toes, and all Deimos could think about then was how beautiful he was, and what he wouldn't give to pull him down by his jacket now and kiss him hard.

But Cain was quick to redress after it was done, hiking up his pants and zipping them closed, throwing the towel back at Deimos and rushing for the door, like he thought if he left quickly enough then he could pretend it hadn't happened in the first place. 

"Why don't you just ask him?" Deimos blurted, as he wiped the come from his foot and covered himself with the towel again. He was still hard, still wanting more from Cain, but Cain wouldn't stay and take care of him. He never did.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Deimos," Cain snarled, without turning around.

"It's not like he wouldn't do it for you. He lets you do everything else, doesn't he?" Deimos went on, ignoring the warning. If it turned into a fight then Cain wouldn't leave. And maybe he'd be so angry after that he'd fuck him, and Deimos wouldn't have to jerk himself off alone in the bathroom again, or wait for Phobos to get back so he could push him down and fuck him.

Cain never got the chance to tell him to shut his whore mouth, though, because the door buzzed open and Phobos was standing there, arms folded as he glowered up at Cain. "Let me in," he demanded, glancing past Cain's shoulder at Deimos, who was still sprawled out on the bed, nothing but a towel covering him. Deimos didn't miss the way his navigator's eyes narrowed, or the hurt that flashed across his pretty face. Deimos pushed the guilt aside, though, and resolved he'd make it up to him later.

"I thought I told you to fuck off," Cain growled. 

"It's my room," Phobos half-shouted, forcefully shouldering his way past Cain. He was red in the face now, fists balled at his sides. " _You_ get the fuck out, fighter."

Cain was dead silent a moment, probably shocked at being spoken to like that when Phobos was well-aware Cain could put him on his ass in a second, but finally said 'Tch,' and shoved Phobos back against the door, so hard Phobos hit the back of his head, and stormed out without another word.

Deimos swallowed guiltily and avoided Phobos' harsh glare once they were alone together.

"What did he want?" Phobos spat after a few seconds of tense silence.

"Talk," Deimos lied with a shrug, nervously smoothing out the towel on his lap.

Phobos let out a little snort, and Deimos glanced up at him just in time to catch the lingering up and down look Phobos threw him, the one that said he was a slut and that Phobos was disappointed in him. Like that was supposed to mean anything coming from him. Like they were supposed to mean anything to each other.

"Whatever," Phobos snapped, standing over Deimos with his arms still folded, impatiently tapping his foot. "If he comes here again I'm reporting him; he's got no right to toss me out of my room whenever he wants to get his dick wet. Now get out of my bed, and why don't you change the fucking sheets while you're at it?" His voice shook with barely restrained anger. 

Deimos flushed and clambered out from the bottom bunk, pulling on his clothes the minute Phobos' back was turned and climbing up onto the top bunk, laying down on his side and facing the bulkhead. He listened to Phobos' angry silence until they both fell asleep, Deimos pissed at Cain and himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm no Judgy McJudgerson, so I hope no one gets the impression I'm actually implying foot fetishes are shameful, just that Cain thinks they are.


End file.
